


Asset

by spiderfire



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brainwashing, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rumlow gets what he deserves, Sitwell lives, once challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderfire/pseuds/spiderfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock Rumlow died when the Triskelion collapsed on him.  SHIELD (well, more properly speaking, it's beautiful parasite) has ways of dealing with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asset

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by the [tag meta verysharpteeth added to this post](http://spiderfire47.tumblr.com/post/97910561640/anfassen-jellicle-ball-i-spend-a-lot-of).

_Once a building fell on me,_ Rumlow mused. 

He was feeling a bit out of it, like he’d had a couple of beers or a toke of some quality weed. Or, maybe it was like the rush of coming off a sparring match with Cap, the kind of match where he gave it his all and he got beat, pinned, thrown. It was that pleasant, buzzy feeling, where everything was not quite real, where the edges were soft and fuzzy. 

Rumlow sat on a bed, vaguely aware that it was a hospital bed, that he was surrounded by equipment that beeped, blinked and counted. He held out his hand and stared at it, twisting it around. There were ropey, shiny, long-healed scars that began on his palm and wrapped around his wrist before climbing up his arm. _Where did those come from?_ A frown creased his forehead as he tried to remember. He was momentarily distracted from his hand by the way the skin on his face felt stiff and pulled in a way that was not familiar. 

_Wait,_ he thought. _A **building** fell on me. _

Not just any building. It was the…it was the…

The building had been massive. Near a river. They had pulled him from the wreckage and stretched him out on his back, staring up a the sun. There had been a repetitive tone and voices, shouting voices. The activity had been furious when he…when he had come loose. He had looked down on himself, watching as the activity redoubled. The incessant beep had turned into a constant whine. And then there had been…

He looked around the room, focusing on his surroundings for the first time. Doing the kind of work he did, he was no stranger to hospitals and medical facilities. His eyes alighted on the equipment quietly flashing and scanning. Familiar equipment. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” 

He sprung to his feet, backpedaling away from the banks of instruments that were used on the Asset. He stopped abruptly, his back against a wall, gasping for breath. 

“Agent!”

It was a title and an order and an identity all rolled into one. The word sliced through the panic, bringing a structure to his chaotic thoughts. 

There were two guards, both dressed in civvies, flanking the door. They cradled guns that were not quite pointed at him. 

A man in a motorized wheelchair rolled through the door. He was bald with oversized wire-framed glasses on his face. He wore a dark suit, a white shirt and a striped tie. The wheelchair hummed forward. 

Rumlow’s eyes flickered between the three of them but none of their names would come. He felt strongly that they should. Especially for the guy in the wheelchair. 

“Agent,” the man in the wheelchair repeated calmly. “Put the IV pole down.”

He looked at his hands. He had the IV pole clenched in his fists. Well, almost. The stand was still on the floor by his feet. He had apparently wrenched the pole from the stand and he held the sharp, torn metal end outstretched, ready to brandish. His eyes widened. He was strong, but since when could he tear metal? 

He dropped the pole with a clatter and backed up against the wall again, hands open. 

The man in the wheel chair nodded in approval. “We have work to do, Agent. A mission.” 

Suddenly, the confusion, the questions, the disturbing memories that did not quite fit, fell away. Something inside him clicked into place. “Tell me more,” he replied.

**Author's Note:**

> [The "once challenge" is described here. ](http://spiderfire47.tumblr.com/post/97701981590/once-challenge)


End file.
